


This Isn't the Homoeroticism You're Looking For

by spicy_diamond



Category: Humanity Has Declined | Jinrui wa Suitaishimashita
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicy_diamond/pseuds/spicy_diamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation while trapped in between the pages of a doujinshi that may or may not lead to a certain Assistant being scarred for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't the Homoeroticism You're Looking For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hokuto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide 2012!

After several 'shocks', and a few minor 'realizations', we appear to have hit a wall, literally, in Y's strategy to defeat the fairies' contribution to her doujinshi craze.

While this isn't entirely a good sign, it isn't necessarily a bad one either; and, seeing as my Assistant is eager to draw us up a place to rest, I, for one, am perfectly willing to accept the amenities as graciously as possible. Even if they aren't perhaps the most accurate of artistic interpretations. Or the most, how shall we say, steadily penned.

Of course, for all that falling asleep inside the secluded world of a comic book panel might sound like a wonderful idea, the truth of the matter is that it's a lot more unsettling than one might think. The hand drawn beds are just a wee bit too lumpy and the surrounding expanse of untouched frame is just a tad too blank. The whole of it filled with a quiet, pervasive hum, fairy machinery at work, that can't be hidden by a mere matter of a boredom darkened panel. 

And, hunkering down deeper in my bedding, I wrap one hand around my knife and settle in for a long sleepless night.

...As per my expectation, Y and my Assistant appear to have fallen asleep instantly.

“Hey!”

Or perhaps not.

“I said: _Hey!_ ” There's a hiss to my left as Y whispers, louder this time. Bed covers rustling around her as she leans over the gap between our beds to yank lightly at the corner of my pillow. “Are you awake?”

I carefully scoot my pillow three inches to the right so as to be out of poking range and deliberately turn my back to her. “No.”

“Great!” She beams. “I had a couple ideas for our comic that I wanted to run by you before tomorrow. Not that I think they need improving upon. But, I thought we should try to get some prepping done. Work on our lines. You know, like, a rehearsal and... Are you even listening to me? _Hello?_ Doujinshi genius at work here.”

She's become more and more ridiculously enthusiastic about this whole situation and, despite how satisfying it would be to give in to the urge to pull the covers up over my head and feign snoring, a small niggling part of my conscious reminds me that I will likely need her very specific skill set in the immediate future. 

Drat.

“Genius.” I remind her slowly. “Is a rather, loose, term. Might I suggest taking the position of Sales Manager instead? I hear the pay is better.”

“True artistic genius has nothing to do with sales.” She sniffs indignantly.

“Oh, that's right, what is it they say?” Settling in comfortably for the oncoming argument, I pull my covers up to my chin. “ 'Artist are never appreciated until after they're dead' ? Good luck with that. Only, not really, because I'd much prefer you focus on conjuring up whatever is the latest fad of your doujinshi craze and getting us out of this mess you created.”

“Mess _I-_ ” She sputters something unprintable before continuing. “Fad!? Doujinshi is hardly a fad! I'll have you know-”

Oh dear, she's forgetting to whisper. Shooting a sympathetic glance over to the wadded lump of blankets that is my Assistant, still asleep and blissfully unaware of the inherent dangers of the situation he's gotten himself into, I give a soft sigh. Good boy. One of us, at least, deserves some rest.

...I do wish I'd thought to ask him to draw earplugs though.

“-built on a long, honorable tradition of homoeroticism in art and literature-”

Y's still speaking it seems. I shift my attention back to her blandly. As mildly impressive as her speech is getting it's best to nip these things right in the bud, I suppose.

“-which is meant to symbolize a purer form of love-”

“Unfortunately.” Rolling over to face her, I clear my throat. “ In the case of our situation, logic dictates otherwise.”

“What?!” She sounds terribly offended and I can see her throw her covers off in a huff. One leg swings out over the side of the bed as she, no doubt, prepares to make her point by a more physical means.

“Math.” It's enough of an non sequitur for her to pause as I stretch an arm out from the sanctity of my bed sheets. I use my index finger to indicate the members of our tiny, folly-wrought, party in turn. “Female. Female. Male. You're lacking a vital part of the equation as per your usual interests.”

“Oh.” Clearly having not realized this setback, her face falls in disappointment. “Right.”

The quiet hum of fairy devices fills the panel once more as she frowns. Situating herself back cross-legged on the top of her bed, she remains still for a few minutes more. Then, narrowing her eyes at my sleeping Assistant, she looks back down at herself thoughtfully and I can see the wheels begin to turn.

She pats her chest speculatively. “...Do you think?”

“No. Please don't.” I interject bluntly, feeling a headache coming on. “I'd rather not have to return him to my Grandfather psychologically scarred for life. It would make for a mess of things.” An afterthought. “...And, he _does_ make a rather lovely cup of tea.”

“You're no fun.” With a roll of her eyes, the frown returns. Then, muttering something about genres and gender-swaps and plausible deniability, she brings up a hand to stroke her chin. Turning her head, she sweeps her gaze over me consideringly. One brow quirks up in unspoken challenge. “Hey, Broom-head.”

“I refuse to answer to Broom-head.”

“...Just...” She ignores me and continues haltingly, as though testing the words for the first time. “How much scarring are we talking about here to qualify as 'scarred for life'?”

Propping myself up on my arm, I allow myself the pleasure of a long suffering sigh before returning her gaze squarely. “If it gets us out of this doujinshi...”

She nods once, encouragingly.

“...I would happily dance naked in the the moonlight and sing the songs of Sappho.”

“Oh, oops.” Y's wide smirk turns sheepish as there's the distinct sound a door opening as the panel brightens to an active white once more. “Sorry. Didn't mean to do that.”

“No. It's okay.” I sit up, stifling a small yawn in honor of sleep lost, before sitting up. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I roll my shoulders in a shrug. “It's not as if I was actually sleeping anyway.”

“True enough.” Blinking against the added brightness to the panel, she nods and pushes herself out of bed. One hand settling on her clothes as she moves to change out of her pajamas.

Gathering up my own things, I lean over give the bed on my right a shake. Rocking it just hard enough to send the lump of blankets rustling alertly as my Assistant wakes and peers out of his nest curiously. I pat him indulgently on the head and smile.

“In any case...” I turn back to look over my shoulder at Y. “I suppose a _little_ mental scarring never hurt anyone.”


End file.
